Tony, Remember Me
by StarkContrastStartles
Summary: Ziva has died tragically and Tony is left mourning her restless soul. She insists on appearing to him and following him about, begging him not to forget her. He can't live without her. Should he just give up on life and join Ziva?
1. Don't forget me, Tony

**My first song fic so I hope it all fits. The song is 'Johnny, Remember Me' by John Leyton. You should listen to it to get the feel for it – it is quite chilling.**

_When the mist's a-rising  
And the rain is falling  
And the wind is blowing cold across the moor  
I hear the voice of my darlin'  
The girl I loved and lost a year ago  
_

He opens his eyes, waking up from a restless sleep. His puffy eyes widen and a smile pulls at the edges of his mouth. The expression is too unfamiliar for his mouth and his grin vanishes. He focuses on the person lying next to him. She is facing away from him so he can't see his face but he would recognise that thick mane of wild hair anywhere.

'Ziva,' he hisses, the name bringing tears to his bloodshot eyes. The tears from his last bout of sobbing have only just dried on his cheeks. 'Ziva,' he repeats, willing her to turn over. The tears are flowing freely down his face now and he makes no attempt to stop them, they have become too commonplace to even register now. 'Ziva,' he forces her name through his choked sobs.

She finally rolls over and her sorrowful eyes bore into his. Somewhere deep inside him he knows that this is impossible, that there is no way on earth she can be here because she is not on earth; she is in heaven, or hell, or wherever you go once you are... He can't bring himself to even think that word.

'Ziva,' he breathes, ignoring the faint hiss that he is imagining this. 'Ziva.'

She smiles and a glow falls on her, illuminating her and giving her a ghostly luminosity.

'Ziva,' he begs, his weak voice barely audible. Not that it matters since she can't hear you, a voice reminds him drily. His eyes plead with her. 'I need you,' he whispers. 'Please don't leave me.' He reaches out his fingers and lets out a wail of desperation as his fingers pass right through her.

She smiles again. 'Remember me, Tony,' she murmurs softly. She is close enough for him to feel her breath on his face if she was real and the absence of warm air hitting his cheeks painfully reminds him of his hallucination and fresh tears appear in his eyes.

_Johnny remember me_

Tony gulps, staring blankly at the expanse of bare white sheet beside him. His eyes close and his head hits the pillow once more, his hands tearing at the sides of the pillowcase in his frustration. He lets out a chilling cry and chokes on his tears. He lets the sobs overpower him and he spreads his arms and legs waiting for the grief to consume him.

Her parting words haunt him. She voiced his greatest fear after her death: that he will forget her and move on like he did with Kate. He rarely thought about Kate once the immediacy of her loss had subsided. He never wanted to lose the memory of Ziva or let her feel like has been left behind.

_Yes I'll always remember  
Till the day I die  
I'll hear her cry  
Johnny remember me  
_

His chest finally stops heaving and his guttural howls die down. He props himself up on one elbow. He glances around his chaotic room. He hasn't tidied up since he stormed into his room the evening of hearing of her... His thoughts stutter to a halt.

She is staring at him from her perch on his dresser. She is swinging her legs and watching him with interest. He sits up and returns her gaze. 'Ziva,' he begins. 'I...' His voice fails him and he contents himself with gazing adoringly at her.

She laughs and the sound fills the gloomy room. He smiles tentatively and leans forward. He continues to watch her, his heart swelling with joy at her presence. He refuses to admit to himself that she isn't really there. He blinks quickly, scared that she'll have disappeared when he opens his eyes but she is still there, regarding him with an amused smile.

His eyes well up with tears and he lets them fall, his leg noting each drop landing on it. He feels the tears trail down his leg and create a circular damp patch on the bed which continues to grow as the tears keep flowing.

Her eyes remain dry but the smile has evaporated. Her face is expressionless and her legs are still swinging monotonously.

He does nothing, says nothing, hears nothing, sees nothing. Even after her death, he cannot voice his feelings. She is dead but he is still in the rut of denial and hiding. Their lifelong game of hide and seek should be over but instead it has become an eternal game which extends beyond both their lives.

The patch of damp on his sheet has swelled up and spreads from directly below his face in a large circle expanding almost to the edges of the bed. He continues to stare at her, silent and motionless.

Then, suddenly she is gone, and he is staring at the wall above his dresser. A pigeon resting on his windowsill gives a squawk of fight and is gone in a flap of wings, alarmed by the howl of rage coming from inside the apartment.

Tony balls up his fists and releases his rage on his wall, pounding it relentlessly with his fists, screaming her name repeatedly. Exhausted, with bruised hands and tearstained cheeks, he falls down into the warmth of his bed. Curling up, his screams of 'Ziva!' become a mantra which he moans into his pillow. 'Ziva...Ziva...Ziva...Ziva...Ziva.'

'Yes,' a disembodied voice replies from above him. He rolls over onto his back and is confronted by her face floating above him.

'Ziva,' he cries. 'Don't leave me again,' he half begs half scolds.

She shrugs and stares down at him, her voice sincere. 'Don't forget me and I will never leave you.'

'I could never forget you,' he promises. 'Ziva...' His voice catches in his chest but he forces out his long buried sentiment. 'I love you,' he whispers.

She does not reply and closes her eyes. He opens his mouth to repeat himself but she is gone.

_Well some day I guess  
I'll find myself another little girl  
To take the place of my true love  
But as long as I live I know  
I'll hear her singing in the sighing of the wind  
Blowin' in the tree tops way above me_

A tiny ringing rouses Tony and his hand automatically searches for his phone on his bedside table. He feels nothing but screwed up tissues so he sits up. His nose is red and running and his eyes are aching but he hauls himself out of bed to locate the sound. He isn't quite sure what he will do once he finds his phone; shut it up or answer it. He flings piles of crumpled, unwashed clothes aside and kicks heaps of tissues out of his way. The phone keeps ringing persistently until finally he finds it.

Gibbs, the screen reads. Tony considers it for a few moments. He hesitates before answering, half expecting Ziva to mock him. Holding the vibrating phone in his hand, his mind goes back to the first time he met Ziva. Kate was taunting and playing with him from atop her desk and he was joking with her. Ziva had appeared and not been at all unnerved by his odd spectacle. She was never unsettled by anything he threw her way. She is immovable. He winced, realising that he was thinking about her in the present tense. She was past tense now; she shouldn't be but she was. Maybe it was time to face that.

His eyes go back to the phone. Gibbs hasn't given up on him yet. With a reluctant, faint smile faltering on his face, Tony flips open his phone.

'Yes?' he asks quietly.

'Tony,' Gibbs harsh voice comes through the phone. 'Where are you?'

Tony blinks, the question catching him off guard. 'What?' he mumbles incoherently. 'Wha–?'

'Your bereavement leave ended today,' Gibbs informs him, his voice gradually growing kinder. 'Did you forget?'

'Oh,' is all Tony can manage to muster.

'Are you coming in or not?' Gibbs asks.

'I...I...I don't know,' Tony finally answers.

'Well, decide quickly,' Gibbs orders, hanging up.

The phone drops from Tony's hand. 'I can't do this anymore,' he announces, hoping Ziva can hear. 'I can't lose everything again.' He takes a step forward. 'I can't go in to work and pretend like everything is normal. I can't. I can't do it.' For the first time since the funeral when the flood gates opened, Tony's eyes remain dry. 'I can't do it,' he murmurs. 'I can't move on.'

A chill passes over him and he turns to find Ziva pressing her nose up against the glass of his window, her hands resting where the pigeon had previously been. Instinctively he runs across the room, stumbling over the mess, and wrenches the window open. 'Ziva,' he pants, breathless from the sudden dash. He steps back and she floats through the open casing. 'Ziva, I can't do it,' he admits, sitting beside her on the bed.

'Tony, I am gone,' she states flatly.

'I know,' he sighs. 'I know. But I will never forget you,' he insists. She shakes her head sadly and evaporates. His shoulders slump and his hopeful eyes lose their momentary spark. His heart aches for her and he cannot shake the overwhelming longing.

His phone rings again and he scrambles across the room to pick it up. 'Yes?' he inquires again, though this time a little more annoyed by the interruption and less willing to listen.

'Tony, it's McGee,' McGee explains. He waits to hear an answer but, getting nothing, continues. 'Are you coming in?'

'McGee,' Tony starts but his voice tails off. He makes a quick decision. 'McGee, I can't. I quit.' The words coming out his mouth sound alien and he grimaces at the sound he is making but he does not regret his choice.

He hears a gasp from the other end. 'Tony,' McGee falters. 'You don't mean that,' he assures him. 'You just need some more time, you are still grieving.'

Tony's nostrils flare. 'And you aren't?' he shouts into the phone. 'Have you forgotten about her already?' He stamps his foot. 'She was Ziva, McGee! You can't just move on! She was Ziva!'

'Tony, that's not what I meant,' McGee appeases, scared by the fury in Tony's voice. 'I just meant...'

'I quit, McGee,' Tony insists loudly, cutting across McGee's apology and jabbing at the end call button.

**Will be continued...if you review...**


	2. Why did you leave me?

_As I walk along,  
I wonder what went wrong,  
With our love, a love that was so strong.  
And as I still walk on,  
I think of the things we've done  
Together, a-while our hearts were young._

The day passed by him like a blur. He remembered scrambling out of bed and dashing to the toilet just in time to throw up neatly into the bowl. He remembered cutting some bread, taking a bite and leaving the rest. He remembered staring at his puffy, red eyes and rumpled hair in the mirror and recalling her first words as part of the team, expressing her disgust at his appearance. He chuckled ruefully, regretting all the wasted moments they let pass by them. He remembered throwing the empty box of tissues at the wall and padding mechanically into the bathroom to find some new ones to deal with his soaked cheeks. He remembered running his eyes listlessly over his film collection, taking one out and sticking it into the DVD player without ever pressing play. He remembered passing out on the sofa staring blankly at the black TV screen. He remembered waking up, sweating and weeping. He remembered curling up on the floor and just staying there until he finally roused and forced himself to do something. Anything. Ziva never vegetated and he needed to feel close to her.

The people he passes have no idea of the pain in his heart. They are just going about their business in the brightly lit town. They give no thought to the person ripped cruelly out of this life. He does. He feels it screaming through him, searing into his heart and piercing his soul. Memories of Ziva crowd his mind. Her leaning over his desk, him breathing down her neck as they peer at her computer, pressed tightly against her in the elevator, him watching her face light up as he tells a joke, her eyes penetrating him when she interrogates him about some aspect of his life, her eyes narrowing suspiciously when he brags about something inconsequent. He tortures himself with missed opportunities.

The graveyard is deathly quiet. No one ventured there after dark. It is too eerie, too spooky, too sad. The air is cold and lifeless; there is no wind whistling through the gravestones, rustling the flowers and making the trees dance. The place is lifeless just like the bodies rotting beneath the wild grass.

A man stands in the gateway; his dark figure slumped against the pillar of the arch, his eyes searching the blackness for a moving shape. His chest heaves and his throat stings from the chilling air. A swirl of breath swims in front of his open mouth before being replaced, the previous breath forgotten about. Just like everyone lying prostrate beneath the ground here would have been forgotten about, he notes acidly. He shifts his weight from the pillar and stretches out his legs. He exhales and waits for the mist to clear before moving towards the blackness and being swallowed up.

He sits cross legged in front of a small, shiny gravestone. His cheeks are now dry and his eyes are cold and closed. He has stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep them warm. He doesn't move or speak but stares out in front of him, his eyes scanning the sparse words on the stone over and over again, not taking the meaning in.

His hand shoots out from his pocket and gently strokes the engraving. He swallows and pauses, the cemetery now completely devoid of movement. This remains the case until his head drooped and he falls asleep, his body lying directly above the coffin with his head resting on the top of the cold gravestone.

The morning dew covers the grass in a glistening shine and settles in his hair. He stirs and his eyes snap open instantly. He sighs and stands up, his eyes scanning the graveyard for other living people. He saw no movement and he smiles sadly, thinking about all the people who had forgotten about someone here and was somewhere else living their life with no thought to the people trapped beneath the ground, ripped from life and discarded permanently into memory. He kisses his fingers and lays them respectfully on the grave. He bends over and whispers something to the stone. 'I'll never forget you Ziva,' he promises her again. He shivers and pulled his coat around him. He strides back through the gravestones, glancing back at Ziva's constantly and every time he did, his breath catching in his chest and he winces at the thought of her abandoned underneath the ground, hidden from the world and devoid of life. Passing underneath the archway, he feels as if he is betraying Ziva by turning his back on the melancholy view and returning to the vibrant atmosphere of the city.

_I'm a-walkin' in the rain,  
Tears are fallin' and I feel the pain,  
Wishin' you were here by me,  
To end this misery  
And I wonder-  
I wah-wah-wah-wah-wonder,  
Why,  
Why, why, why, why, why she ran away,  
Yes, and I wonder,  
A-where she will stay-ay,  
My little runaway,  
Run, run, run, run, runaway._

The water drizzled down his face and mixed with his tears so that any passersby would not have been able to tell that he was weeping hysterically. I stumbled aimlessly around the centre before finally he was drawn to a warm, comforting light illuminating the wet plastic chairs on the pavement in front of the small coffee shop.

He pushed open the door and was immediately welcomed by a jovial woman who ushered him to a table in the corner with two chairs. Tony followed obediently and thanked her with a weak smile. She offered him a menu but he pushed it away and quietly ordered a large white coffee. He sipped it slowly, not tasting the drink but relishing the warmth and awakening it gave him. His eyes stopped drooping and he sat up straighter.

The table had two chairs around it and he flinched at the new reminder of his loss. He took another sip and when his eyes returned to the chair mocking him, it was occupied. Ziva was watching him across the table. 'Ziva,' he breathed softly. She laid her hand on the table on top of his and smiled pityingly. 'Why?' he begged. 'Why did you leave me?' She shrugged and leaned forward confidentially. He waited but she didn't speak. 'I need you,' he admitted. 'I can't go on without you.' Tears dripped into his coffee and ripples appeared on the creamy brown surface. 'I need you to follow me into the bathroom and tell me that everything is going to be ok. I need you here,' he patted his heart. 'I can't do this.' She smiled and disappeared again. 'Where are you going?' he murmured to the empty chair. 'Why won't you stay with me?' He slammed his fists on the table, ignoring the startled looks from the other occupants of the cafe. 'Why did you have to go?' he shouted. 'Why, Ziva? Why you?' His voice dropped to a hiss. 'You left me, Ziva,' he accused.

He left the rest of his coffee untouched on the table, threw some money on the counter and charged through the door, running home as fast as he could. He flung himself on his bed and sobbed uncontrollably again.

His phone rang again but he threw it out the still open window. Someone knocked persistently on his door but he pulled the pillow over his head and waited for it to go away. The day passed by him again without him taking much notice of the passing time.

He woke up late the next day and went through his usual motions in getting ready for work listlessly. He had opened his door with his gun on his hip when he remembered that he had quit. He slumped and turned to go back to bed but stopped himself. He trudged unthinkingly up the stairs and emerged on the roof. He walked to the edge and stared down.

'I love you,' he declared. 'I need to be with you.' He took a deep breath – hopefully his last – and closed his eyes, resolving himself to take the next step forward over the precipice. He felt a rush a wind surround him and opened his eyes to see Ziva spinning around him. 'Ziva,' he murmured and lifted his foot.


	3. You deserve this

Gibbs threw his phone at the wall in frustration and anger. He got up and strode to his car, driving manically towards Tony's apartment. He took the stairs two at a time and stopped dead, finding Tony's door open. His hand went mechanically to his gun but he shook off his work mode and hurried in, grimacing at the mess. He worked his way systematically through the rooms before concluding that Tony had gone out. His mind churned and, suddenly, he dashed out of the door, sprinting up the stairs to the roof.

'Tony!' he bellowed, spotting his agent on the periphery of the roof. 'Tony!' He ran over to Tony and grabbed his arm, catching it as Tony stepped off, his eyes shut. 'Tony!' He was holding Tony's hand, lying flat on the edge. 'Tony!' His hand was slipping; Tony's palm was dripping with sweat. 'Tony!' He was going to lose another agent, another friend, another child. 'Tony!' He wouldn't let this happen to Tony.

Tony opened his eyes, hearing his name yelled over and over. One glance down told him that he had an unbroken drop to the street far below. He looked up and found Gibbs's face staring down at him. He saw something in Gibbs's eyes that he had never seen before. It was fear. Gibbs, the man of steel, was afraid. Tony's eyes widened, realising that it was his fault that Gibbs was afraid.

He had put his boss in the awful position of being the only thing keeping Tony alive. If Gibbs dropped him now, he would have to carry the guilt of Tony's death around with him. Tony believed his life to be worthless now that Ziva had gone, but Gibbs did not deserve to be tortured by this one moment. If Tony let himself fall, Gibbs would never forgive himself. He couldn't do that to his boss however much he wanted the pain to end.

'Tony!' Gibbs yelled again, gritting his teeth and bracing himself against the parapet, determined not to let Tony fall. Tony looked up at him, his eyes wide. Gibbs swallowed, recognising the look in his eyes. It was the look that Tony had carried with him since Ziva had died. It was the look of a haunted man, scared by everything and regretting every decision he had ever made. Gibbs would not let Tony regret this one. 'Tony!' he shouted, strengthening his grip.

'Gibbs,' Tony whispered, his voice sucked away by the wind.

Gibbs saw Tony's mouth move and he nodded, understanding the feelings of the younger agent. One hand let go of Tony's wrist and slipped into his pocket. He speed dialled McGee and explained the situation shortly. 'McGee,' he barked, not waiting for McGee to greet him. 'Tony's hanging off the roof. I need assistance now. I can't hold on much longer. Tim,' he added. 'His life depends on you.'

He dropped his phone to the ground, not bothering to hang up, and grabbed hold of Tony's wrist again. 'I'm not letting you do this, Tony,' he shouted above the wind. 'You are not going to die.'

Tony nodded, praying that Gibbs would have the strength to hold on. He was filled with a new guilt; the guilt of offloading the pain onto Gibbs. Tony was being selfish and pigheaded. He smiled to himself, reminded of Ziva scolding him over and over for being thoughtless and stubborn. God, he missed Ziva.

Gibbs did not speak again. His eyes were fixed on Tony's face; watching the wave of emotion crest and break in his green eyes. Every so often, the grey eyes of the older man would glance impatiently at the door, needing the help that was on its way. He couldn't lose another agent, not now, not ever. He had already lost too many. Tony was not allowed to die.

McGee pressed his foot down on the accelerator, screaming orders through the radio to the police car following him. As he flew over a speed bump, the coil of rope in the boot leapt up and crashed back down. He gritted his teeth and sped through a red light, seeing only Tony's face. If Tony died, he would be left alone. Half the team would have died within a month of each other. Abby would wilt, unable to cope with the grief that would drown her and McGee needed Abby to push through this himself. Tony could not die as well. First Kate, then Ziva, but not Tony. Tony's vitality was annoying but omnipresent. Nothing would happen to Tony, he promised himself. Nothing.

The staircase which had so recently been graced with Tony's slow feet was now stampeded by thudding boots as McGee led the charge up to the roof. The door was thrown open and McGee sprinted towards the edge, pulling the rope off his shoulder.

'McGee,' Gibbs called. 'Drop the end down.'

McGee obeyed the order, thrusting the rest of the length at the waiting policemen. Tony's face was ashen as Gibbs released one wrist and let Tony grab hold of the rope.

'Ok,' Gibbs announced. 'This is it. Ready?' The officers behind him nodded, clutching the rope firmly. Tony managed a weak, encouraging smile, promising to survive. Gibbs's fingers freed their tight hold on his hand and Tony was left hanging, swinging perilously, dangling off the roof of a building, held up by only a few policemen and McGee.

He was hauled up and Gibbs yanked him over the side, dropping Tony to the floor. Tony collapsed and breathed shakily, his chest heaving. Finally, he managed to sit up.

'Sorry, Boss,' he murmured hoarsely.

'You did not have permission to die,' Gibbs growled.

'I know, I'm sorry, Boss,' Tony repeated quietly.

'Don't ever try anything as stupid as that again,' Gibbs ordered.

'I promise,' Tony agreed.

'We can't lose another one,' Gibbs told him, his voice softer.

Tony's eyes filled with tears. 'I know,' he muttered. 'But,' he choked. 'I miss her so much. I can't live without her.'

McGee lowered his eyes, staring awkwardly at the ground. 'She wouldn't want you to give up,' he whispered. 'She would want you to move on.'

'I can't,' Tony replied, wiping the streams of tears off his face.

McGee led him down the stairs and past his apartment. 'You are coming to stay with me,' he informed Tony firmly. Tony didn't reply, just let himself be taken out of the building and gently pushed into the back seat of a car.

He stared blindly at the black leather head rest in front of him, seeing only Ziva's mane of dark brown curls. He turned his attention to the buildings streaking past them but his gaze was filled up with Ziva's laughing face projected onto every brick in every house. She was gone but he could not escape her, he did not want to escape her. He needed her by his side forever.

'So, that's where I'll be,' she promised, whispering in his ear. He twisted his head around, gazing into her chocolate eyes.

'I'll never let you go, Ziva,' he admitted. 'You have no choice.'

She laughed, her chuckle echoing in his head. 'I don't want to go anywhere else,' she revealed. 'I never wanted anyone else.' Her eyes became accusing and hurt. 'Why did you never tell me that you loved me?'

Tony put his hand to his mouth, stemming the bile that rose in his throat at that nauseating thought. The guilt had been eating away at him and now that she had said it... He coughed, a fresh shower of tears running down his face, burning his skin. Ziva raised her hand and placed it on his, covering up his mouth as well.

'You deserve this,' she spat spitefully. 'You let me die alone.'

Tony pulled his hand away, reaching out to grab her and tell her that it was not true, she was never alone, force her to believe it. His hand shot through the air, blocked by nothing as she faded.

'I'm dead, Tony,' she chorused. 'You can't touch me. I can't hear you. I'm all in your head...' Her voice trailed away as she vanished. Tony shouted after her but his cry was stopped by his stomach as he bent double and threw up on McGee's clean leather seats. She was gone and he had done nothing to stop her. He deserved this. He deserved this.


End file.
